19/02/2026
14 | 14 ❤️
I am writing this
like a letter I will never send,
folded into the margins
of the first memory we shared
the day we met
at a campus journalism event—
red and gold shining,
you and me meters apart
but I could not forget
you coming closer to me
and for the first time,
I saw your smile.
You were tall and prince-like
I remember thinking
I had never met someone
who loved the same fandoms,
the same taste of matcha,
the same dog-eared novels,
the same kind of silence.
It startled me—
how similar we were.
Like two drafts of the same article
written in different handwriting.
We became footnotes in each other’s days.
Morning texts before lectures.
Midnight confessions about impossible dreams.
We talked so often
that silence felt like a typo.
Somewhere between
shared experiences
and shared secrets,
between “Did you eat?”
and “Text me when you get home,”
our friendship ripened
into something softer,
something about to blossom.
We fell in love
quietly,
like ink soaking through paper.
You held my hand first
on a bus ride out of town—
ironically towards the city of love
We began to travel more together,
collecting memories like postcards:
cafes, cheap hotels,
museums that we love.
We became a couple
in the way that feels inevitable—
as if the world had already written us
in our own feature story.
And then there was that trip.
Outside our hometown,
in a place that did not know our names.
You introduced him as a friend.
I trusted the word.
Trust is such a small word
for something that takes
so much space.
I will not write the details—
only that betrayal
is quieter than people think.
It does not always scream.
Sometimes it simply rearranges
your understanding of someone.
When I found out,
I felt no anger
but a sudden clarity.
I cannot compete
with a truth you are still discovering.
I cannot be insecure
with a man
who is searching for himself
in other persons.
So we ended
like adults who once loved well.
No screaming,
No slammed doors.
Just a soft, final period
at the end of a long sentence.
My used to be darling,
my comforting ocean of happiness
I want you to know
I do not regret us.
You taught me
how it feels
to be chosen—
even if it was temporary.
You taught me
that my heart is brave enough
to travel.
And now,
as I let you go,
I picture you bending over blueprints,
sketching buildings that will outlive us.
I hope your lines are steady.
I hope your foundations are strong.
I hope you become
the man you always dreamed of being—
designing spaces
where other people feel safe.
This is my farewell,
written without bitterness.
I loved you.
I release you.
Farewell.
May you be loved.
For all eternity.
May your new love be well-structured,
honest,
and kinder
than our ending.
✍️: Titania
